NINTH INSTALLMENT FOR QUEST FOR THE RINGS
9. Death's Assassin "Whoa," was all Rorimac could think to say as he entered his suite. The high vaulted ceiling was covered with elaborate paintings of past kings and queens in all their regal splendor. Great windows lined the east side of the room, letting the last rays of sunlight fall warmly onto the plush rugs lining the floor. A deep, leather easy chair sat welcomingly in front of a currently cold hearth, the logs laying stacked and ready to light for the evening. Eyes wide, Rorimac stepped in and dropped his meager belongings on the table. The rest of us filed in behind him.
"Nice accommodations," I commented dryly, craning my neck around to take everything in.
"Hmm, yes indeed. Emperor Melnion treats his guests to every courtesy," Master Filiby ventured from behind us. "Now, Miss Silvereye, Master Gandalf, Master Greenleaf, if you would follow me, I'll direct you to your own rooms. They're all conveniently located in this corridor as well."
"Conveniently for whom?" Legolas whispered. "Check your room first thing after he leaves you, Tarrodwen," he said quietly, looking at me and then at Rorimac. "I don't trust him." I nodded in response, and then gave the frowning Master Filiby a gracious smile.
"So sorry to keep you, Master Filiby. We're coming," I told him reassuringly as I walked past him and out the door. He left Gandalf and Legolas at rooms just as magnificent as the one Rorimac now occupied, leaving his promises of returning in an hour or so to retrieve them for dinner.
As the last, he led me farther down the brightly lit hallway to another set of double bronze doors. Opening them grandly before me he said, "And this is your suite, Miss Silvereye. I do hope you enjoy your rooms. They are the finest in the guest wing, reserved specifically for the great ladies of the court," his pseudo-smile was oily and grated on my nerves. I had no idea how he could wear such a false grin for so long without his cheeks aching and the smile sliding off his face and into a greasy blob on the floor.
"Thank you for this undue courtesy," I replied as pleasantly as I could, my stomach sickening just looking at this man. He held his slimy smile one moment longer before bowing slightly and backing out of the room, looking at me the entire time. By the time the door had finally closed behind him I felt dirty and disgusted.
"Thank goodness for the bath," I said thankfully. Setting my bag down on marble floor and my staff against the bed, I walked over to another door, presumably the bathroom. As my hand touched the handle, I stopped suddenly. 'Check your room first thing' Legolas had said, and here I was thinking only of my bath. Silently cursing myself for a fool, I nonchalantly searched my room first with my eyes. After not finding any immediate danger in sight, I set to carefully checking all the nooks and crannies of the room, under the bed, behind the curtains, the closet, the bathroom, and the drawers of the antique bureau. I finished off my search by pulling up all the soft rugs, looking for trap doors and hidden escapes. Finding nothing, I shrugged and turned back to my waiting bath.
As I opened the door, the aroma of flowery bath oils filled my nose, immediately beginning their relaxing work and taking Master Filiby far from my mind. I breathed it in down to my toes, savoring the beautiful smell. Leaving the door open to where I could just see the entrance to my room, I disrobed quickly and sank down into the steaming water. It felt so wonderful to sit in a bathtub again; I sat back against the rest and concentrated on enjoying my bath. I could literally feel the cramps and aches flowing out, leaving my body blissfully relaxed.
After sitting with my eyes closed for several moments, I realized that I only had about an hour before Master Filiby came back. I needed to be dressed and ready to go early, however, so I could visit Legolas before the dinner. Thinking about him put a soft smile on my lips and I let a sigh escaped me. I realized I could sit and be happy forever, just thinking about him. Then again, being near to him in real life was much better. With this enlivening thought, I stepped out of the brass tub and quickly toweled off with one of the softest towels I had ever felt. I slipped into the velvety robe left on a chair, and walked back into my room.
Stopping short of my bed, I said aloud, "What am I going to wear?" Dismayed, I realized I had nothing that would even come close to being decent for the dinner. Before now, just staying alive and reaching our destination had been the largest concern. Attire had never even crossed my mind as relating to importance.
Sitting down on my bed with a frown, I glanced around my room, my eyes falling to the antique bureau. A small, brightly colored piece of silk stuck out from the corner of one of the swinging doors. With a small smile I walked over and opened up the wardrobe. Inside were several elegant dresses, lined up by color, all my size.
"Perfect!" I exclaimed, pulling out a teal, silk dress. It was light and airy, with several transparent layers that seemed to flow down my body, highlighting my every curve. The neck dipped low and the fittedness of the sleeves left off just above my elbows, fabric billowing out all the way down to my calves. Feeling like a princess, I twirled around, letting my long sleeves fan out around me. I found a pair of matching shoes at the bottom of the bureau and slipped them on, once again finding a perfect fit.
As I was admiring myself in the mirror, a soft knock sounded at my door. "Who is it?" I called reaching for my staff, jolted out of my preening and suddenly wary once more.
"Legolas."
"Oh," releasing the tension in my stance, I allowed a shiver to crawl pleasantly up my spine. "Come in."
Carefully opening the door, Legolas stepped inside; his tall, white boots squeaking a little on the marble floor. He was resplendent in his robes of pearly white, gold embroidering on the collar and shoulders and down the sides of his pants. His flowing blonde hair lay in neatly combed waves down his neck, his blue eyes glowing intensely. At that moment he truly looked the part of an elfin prince.
"Hmm," he said with a smile, his fingers coming up to stroke his chin in a comical fashion. "I'm thinking either the dress doesn't match the staff, or the staff doesn't match the dress." Smiling sheepishly, I returned my staff to its stance against the wall.
"Please come in," I finally remembered to say. "What am I supposed to do with my hands?" I wondered irrationally as Legolas turned around to close the large brass door. "I've always had a pocket or knapsack or sleeve or something to occupy my hands with. This is a dress! Ooh, do I look silly in this thing to him?" Legolas strode over to me as I tried clinching my hands together, then letting them drop at my sides, then pulling them back behind me. With laughter in his eyes he reached out to me and took my fumbling hands in his.
"You look beautiful," was all he said, and he need not have said anything more. His crystal clear eyes spoke volumes as he slowly pulled me into him. He let go of one of my hands and placed his at the small of my back, the contours of my skin easily felt beneath the thin fabric. "My beloved, my heart, my soul mate," such simple words with such complex and wonderful meanings. I could have died happily right then, just having heard those words from him; and I nearly did.
Leaning in to once more taste his sweet lips, the air between us came alive with a whizzing hum. Legolas jerked back in surprise, knocking me off balance and onto the bed. His eyes followed the air stream in a rapid, darting movement landing directly on an identical pair of yellow-fletched darts lodged deep into the wooden bed post. His head whipped back in the opposite direction, taking in the angle of the darts to determine from where they could have originated. High above our heads, his acute elfin ears picked up the slight sound of shuffling.
"Shh," Legolas whispered, holding a finger up in my direction. "They're in the walls."
Too shocked to even have thought of saying something, I immediately dropped down onto the floor and huddled up against the edge of the bed for cover. Crouching down beside me, Legolas silently searched the rest of the cunningly painted ceiling for any other opening his sharp eyes could find.
Carefully, Legolas plucked the darts from the bedpost and examined the ends. A dry, filmy, black layer covered the tips of both darts, as if they had been dipped in a kind of paint. "Poison, no doubt. Though of what variety, I couldn't say," wrapping them in a handkerchief, Legolas returned the darts to the pocket from which he had produced the cloth. Thinking of Gandalf and Rorimac, we speedily made our way to the door.
Outside, the corridor was deserted. We casually made our way down to Gandalf's room and knocked discreetly on the doors. No answer. I gave Legolas a worried look, assuming the worst. "Gandalf," I called quietly, to no avail. Legolas tried the handle and to his surprise the door opened obligingly inward. Cautiously, he peered inside. Seeing no one, he opened the door fully and walked in.
"He's not here," Legolas said finally after checking the room. "Let's go to Rorimac's."
"Do you think they took him?" I asked as we passed back into the hall navigating toward Gandalf's room. He did not answer, but threw me a bleak look. "Wait," I grabbed Legolas' arm to stop him. "Look, the door's open." Creeping silently to it, and I peeked inside.
A sharp intake of breath alerted Legolas to a wrongness in Tarrodwen's line of vision. Before he could grab her, Tarrodwen lunged into the room and all but skidded to a halt at the foot of Rorimac's bed. Cursing silently, Legolas had no choice but to follow her in and cover her back.
He was not ready for the sight that met his eyes in that room. Rorimac lay gasping on the cold, marble floor, his body curled into an unnatural ball and his hands clamped sharply to his stomach.
"Rorimac!" I yelled, trying to hold him still as he began rocking back and forth and moaning. "Legolas, help me!" I pleaded, tears in my eyes.
"Stand away, Tarrodwen," he said calmingly. Firmly holding Rorimac's shoulder to the floor with one hand, Legolas gently placed the palm of his other hand on Rorimac's forehead. He spoke softly in elvish, a faint blue light emanating from the tips of his fingers.
"Elvin Healing," I whispered to myself, remembering my own experience. I watched enthralled as Rorimac quit whimpering and eased his grip on his stomach under the Legolas' soothing hand. Soon, he ceased moving altogether and the pained look on his face melted away to blissful oblivion.
Legolas looked pale and drawn as he removed his palm from Rorimac's forehead. "Let's move him to the bed," he said quietly. Gently as we could, we lifted Rorimac's heavy, comatose figure onto the down quilted bed. His mouth a grim line, Legolas reached down and pulled a yellow-fletched dart from Rorimac's calf.
"The poison is quick to take effect, but slow to kill." Legolas' voice was barely above a whisper, but an undertone of tight control belied his rage. "It is now clear why Emperor Melnion wanted us here," Legolas spat, his hands clenching and unclenching. "To kill us."
"Then he knows what we seek," I replied, worried. "How could-" but a loud knock on the door froze the words in my mouth.
9. Death's Assassin "Whoa," was all Rorimac could think to say as he entered his suite. The high vaulted ceiling was covered with elaborate paintings of past kings and queens in all their regal splendor. Great windows lined the east side of the room, letting the last rays of sunlight fall warmly onto the plush rugs lining the floor. A deep, leather easy chair sat welcomingly in front of a currently cold hearth, the logs laying stacked and ready to light for the evening. Eyes wide, Rorimac stepped in and dropped his meager belongings on the table. The rest of us filed in behind him.
"Nice accommodations," I commented dryly, craning my neck around to take everything in.
"Hmm, yes indeed. Emperor Melnion treats his guests to every courtesy," Master Filiby ventured from behind us. "Now, Miss Silvereye, Master Gandalf, Master Greenleaf, if you would follow me, I'll direct you to your own rooms. They're all conveniently located in this corridor as well."
"Conveniently for whom?" Legolas whispered. "Check your room first thing after he leaves you, Tarrodwen," he said quietly, looking at me and then at Rorimac. "I don't trust him." I nodded in response, and then gave the frowning Master Filiby a gracious smile.
"So sorry to keep you, Master Filiby. We're coming," I told him reassuringly as I walked past him and out the door. He left Gandalf and Legolas at rooms just as magnificent as the one Rorimac now occupied, leaving his promises of returning in an hour or so to retrieve them for dinner.
As the last, he led me farther down the brightly lit hallway to another set of double bronze doors. Opening them grandly before me he said, "And this is your suite, Miss Silvereye. I do hope you enjoy your rooms. They are the finest in the guest wing, reserved specifically for the great ladies of the court," his pseudo-smile was oily and grated on my nerves. I had no idea how he could wear such a false grin for so long without his cheeks aching and the smile sliding off his face and into a greasy blob on the floor.
"Thank you for this undue courtesy," I replied as pleasantly as I could, my stomach sickening just looking at this man. He held his slimy smile one moment longer before bowing slightly and backing out of the room, looking at me the entire time. By the time the door had finally closed behind him I felt dirty and disgusted.
"Thank goodness for the bath," I said thankfully. Setting my bag down on marble floor and my staff against the bed, I walked over to another door, presumably the bathroom. As my hand touched the handle, I stopped suddenly. 'Check your room first thing' Legolas had said, and here I was thinking only of my bath. Silently cursing myself for a fool, I nonchalantly searched my room first with my eyes. After not finding any immediate danger in sight, I set to carefully checking all the nooks and crannies of the room, under the bed, behind the curtains, the closet, the bathroom, and the drawers of the antique bureau. I finished off my search by pulling up all the soft rugs, looking for trap doors and hidden escapes. Finding nothing, I shrugged and turned back to my waiting bath.
As I opened the door, the aroma of flowery bath oils filled my nose, immediately beginning their relaxing work and taking Master Filiby far from my mind. I breathed it in down to my toes, savoring the beautiful smell. Leaving the door open to where I could just see the entrance to my room, I disrobed quickly and sank down into the steaming water. It felt so wonderful to sit in a bathtub again; I sat back against the rest and concentrated on enjoying my bath. I could literally feel the cramps and aches flowing out, leaving my body blissfully relaxed.
After sitting with my eyes closed for several moments, I realized that I only had about an hour before Master Filiby came back. I needed to be dressed and ready to go early, however, so I could visit Legolas before the dinner. Thinking about him put a soft smile on my lips and I let a sigh escaped me. I realized I could sit and be happy forever, just thinking about him. Then again, being near to him in real life was much better. With this enlivening thought, I stepped out of the brass tub and quickly toweled off with one of the softest towels I had ever felt. I slipped into the velvety robe left on a chair, and walked back into my room.
Stopping short of my bed, I said aloud, "What am I going to wear?" Dismayed, I realized I had nothing that would even come close to being decent for the dinner. Before now, just staying alive and reaching our destination had been the largest concern. Attire had never even crossed my mind as relating to importance.
Sitting down on my bed with a frown, I glanced around my room, my eyes falling to the antique bureau. A small, brightly colored piece of silk stuck out from the corner of one of the swinging doors. With a small smile I walked over and opened up the wardrobe. Inside were several elegant dresses, lined up by color, all my size.
"Perfect!" I exclaimed, pulling out a teal, silk dress. It was light and airy, with several transparent layers that seemed to flow down my body, highlighting my every curve. The neck dipped low and the fittedness of the sleeves left off just above my elbows, fabric billowing out all the way down to my calves. Feeling like a princess, I twirled around, letting my long sleeves fan out around me. I found a pair of matching shoes at the bottom of the bureau and slipped them on, once again finding a perfect fit.
As I was admiring myself in the mirror, a soft knock sounded at my door. "Who is it?" I called reaching for my staff, jolted out of my preening and suddenly wary once more.
"Legolas."
"Oh," releasing the tension in my stance, I allowed a shiver to crawl pleasantly up my spine. "Come in."
Carefully opening the door, Legolas stepped inside; his tall, white boots squeaking a little on the marble floor. He was resplendent in his robes of pearly white, gold embroidering on the collar and shoulders and down the sides of his pants. His flowing blonde hair lay in neatly combed waves down his neck, his blue eyes glowing intensely. At that moment he truly looked the part of an elfin prince.
"Hmm," he said with a smile, his fingers coming up to stroke his chin in a comical fashion. "I'm thinking either the dress doesn't match the staff, or the staff doesn't match the dress." Smiling sheepishly, I returned my staff to its stance against the wall.
"Please come in," I finally remembered to say. "What am I supposed to do with my hands?" I wondered irrationally as Legolas turned around to close the large brass door. "I've always had a pocket or knapsack or sleeve or something to occupy my hands with. This is a dress! Ooh, do I look silly in this thing to him?" Legolas strode over to me as I tried clinching my hands together, then letting them drop at my sides, then pulling them back behind me. With laughter in his eyes he reached out to me and took my fumbling hands in his.
"You look beautiful," was all he said, and he need not have said anything more. His crystal clear eyes spoke volumes as he slowly pulled me into him. He let go of one of my hands and placed his at the small of my back, the contours of my skin easily felt beneath the thin fabric. "My beloved, my heart, my soul mate," such simple words with such complex and wonderful meanings. I could have died happily right then, just having heard those words from him; and I nearly did.
Leaning in to once more taste his sweet lips, the air between us came alive with a whizzing hum. Legolas jerked back in surprise, knocking me off balance and onto the bed. His eyes followed the air stream in a rapid, darting movement landing directly on an identical pair of yellow-fletched darts lodged deep into the wooden bed post. His head whipped back in the opposite direction, taking in the angle of the darts to determine from where they could have originated. High above our heads, his acute elfin ears picked up the slight sound of shuffling.
"Shh," Legolas whispered, holding a finger up in my direction. "They're in the walls."
Too shocked to even have thought of saying something, I immediately dropped down onto the floor and huddled up against the edge of the bed for cover. Crouching down beside me, Legolas silently searched the rest of the cunningly painted ceiling for any other opening his sharp eyes could find.
Carefully, Legolas plucked the darts from the bedpost and examined the ends. A dry, filmy, black layer covered the tips of both darts, as if they had been dipped in a kind of paint. "Poison, no doubt. Though of what variety, I couldn't say," wrapping them in a handkerchief, Legolas returned the darts to the pocket from which he had produced the cloth. Thinking of Gandalf and Rorimac, we speedily made our way to the door.
Outside, the corridor was deserted. We casually made our way down to Gandalf's room and knocked discreetly on the doors. No answer. I gave Legolas a worried look, assuming the worst. "Gandalf," I called quietly, to no avail. Legolas tried the handle and to his surprise the door opened obligingly inward. Cautiously, he peered inside. Seeing no one, he opened the door fully and walked in.
"He's not here," Legolas said finally after checking the room. "Let's go to Rorimac's."
"Do you think they took him?" I asked as we passed back into the hall navigating toward Gandalf's room. He did not answer, but threw me a bleak look. "Wait," I grabbed Legolas' arm to stop him. "Look, the door's open." Creeping silently to it, and I peeked inside.
A sharp intake of breath alerted Legolas to a wrongness in Tarrodwen's line of vision. Before he could grab her, Tarrodwen lunged into the room and all but skidded to a halt at the foot of Rorimac's bed. Cursing silently, Legolas had no choice but to follow her in and cover her back.
He was not ready for the sight that met his eyes in that room. Rorimac lay gasping on the cold, marble floor, his body curled into an unnatural ball and his hands clamped sharply to his stomach.
"Rorimac!" I yelled, trying to hold him still as he began rocking back and forth and moaning. "Legolas, help me!" I pleaded, tears in my eyes.
"Stand away, Tarrodwen," he said calmingly. Firmly holding Rorimac's shoulder to the floor with one hand, Legolas gently placed the palm of his other hand on Rorimac's forehead. He spoke softly in elvish, a faint blue light emanating from the tips of his fingers.
"Elvin Healing," I whispered to myself, remembering my own experience. I watched enthralled as Rorimac quit whimpering and eased his grip on his stomach under the Legolas' soothing hand. Soon, he ceased moving altogether and the pained look on his face melted away to blissful oblivion.
Legolas looked pale and drawn as he removed his palm from Rorimac's forehead. "Let's move him to the bed," he said quietly. Gently as we could, we lifted Rorimac's heavy, comatose figure onto the down quilted bed. His mouth a grim line, Legolas reached down and pulled a yellow-fletched dart from Rorimac's calf.
"The poison is quick to take effect, but slow to kill." Legolas' voice was barely above a whisper, but an undertone of tight control belied his rage. "It is now clear why Emperor Melnion wanted us here," Legolas spat, his hands clenching and unclenching. "To kill us."
"Then he knows what we seek," I replied, worried. "How could-" but a loud knock on the door froze the words in my mouth.